Gravity Prompts
by VictorianRose99
Summary: Drabbles to warm your heart... Become a better writer project. Please Review!
1. Ford Goes to Sweatertown

**A/N: To make myself a better writer, I am doing premeditated prompts. I'll make this multichapter work because I am not fitting 75 prompts into one chapter.**

 **Enjoy my lovelies!**

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1.) Ford Goes to Sweatertown

 _The beast licked its lips at the sight of the two brunette children in its massive, disgusting grasp._

 _Ford couldn't move, wounded by the monster's claws, damn near bleeding to death. He could only helplessly watch the pitiful display._

 _Dipper was frozen in spine tingling fear, locking eyes with the red glow of the predator's. Mabel, poor Mabel, kicked her legs frantically, breathing hard, eyes pouring with tears, staring at its long, blood soaked teeth. Its tongue, darting out to graze them. Neither called for help, knowing it was too late..._

 _The monster opened its hideous maw, saliva stringing and dripping, and groaned in lustful gluttony._

 _The adolescent screams were long, the beast torturing them as much as possible. Its teeth ripped into their flesh, hot tongue burning the wounds. Even as the screams were cut off by a series of crunches, sickening to the ear, gallons of blood poured formed the gaped orifice._

 _..._

Ford woke up and let out a long, disparate groan. Tears fell from his eyes and he barely noticed the creak of the bunk beneath him.

In an act of complete weakness and surrender, he pulled the neck of his sweater over his he as and closed his eyes, beginning to hyperventilate.

Stan shook his shoulder, gently quaking for having to climb the small ladder.

"Ford's not here, he's in Sweatertown right now..." came the soft whisper of the old scientist.

Instead of laughing like someone who didn't understand the situation would, he cautiously walked off the ladder and sat on the bunk with his brother.

"Is Sweatertown accepting calls right now?" he asked sincerely, without malice.

"Maybe," Ford allowed.

"Why is Ford in Sweatertown for the first time in fifty-odd years?"

Suddenly, hearing how childlike he sounded, he sighed and slipped out from his sweater, sweat and tears soaking his face.

"It was too real this time, Stanley! Th-that dream...the t-twins...they suffered and I couldn't do anything..."

"Realistic or not, it's still just a dream. The kids are fine..."

"I know, it's just terrifying to have to see."

Stan just hugged him, resting his chin on Ford's shoulder. "S'okay. Just always tell the secretary of Sweatertown to accept calls."

Ford snorted, but whispered, "I will."


	2. Angels Among Demons

**A/N: To make myself a better writer, I am doing premeditated prompts. I'll make this multichapter work because I am not fitting 75 prompts into one chapter.**

 **Enjoy my lovelies!**

* * *

2.) Angels Among Demons

" _All existing things are born without reason, prolong themselves out of weakness, and die by chance…"_

The glass bottle sweat on the table, damnably tempting to the old man who looked upon it, knowing it's demonic reign on his life.

The six-fingered hand picked it up with tremoring grasp, begging for all the odds to allow him to drop it.

No luck.

It burned like hellfire, that bourbon of Satan himself. bUt it brought upon a suffocating smoky haze upon his memories, veiling them like the bride that never made it to the altar…

He opened the door to the deceptively cold gates of his personal hell. More lava ripped past his throat, coughing and nearly choking as he caught brimstone embers in his windpipe. He pulled out two images on polaroid stock.

The woman with red hair was small, almost looking anorexic. The scars of her childhood trauma. He held on to her like a doll. Those deep green eyes splayed a spectrum of intelligence, compassion, and wisdom. The bourbon was so strong in that memory that Ford swore that he smelled on the photo itself.

Or was it him?

Engines roared in his mind. The hideous sting of his palm against that soft, white cheek tingled in his nerves. He could imagine this burning in her throat, as her engine stopped for just a moment. But the heat of the moment could only be cooled by the sweet embrace of an unforgiving, still water, waiting silently for a victim.

Ford cringed in memory of the neon leaving the whites of his eyes and the love of the moment becoming broken despair.

He set the polaroids down on the table and then just kept on drinking.

…

 _Bill, broken and bleeding, crawled ever closer, his eyes filled with hate and fury and… and terror…_

 _Terror?! As in fear?!_

 _"B-bill," whispered Dipper as winds of humidity ripped passed, stealing his breath, his whisper. Sweeping it into its screaming velocity._

 _"Ci-cipher…" Bill spoke through grunts of pain._

 _"Yeah," said Dipper, lost, "Bill Cipher-"_

 _"No, you idiot! Cipher!" he roared, his frustration making him sound so different, so… so mortal, "Cipherus, you stupid…" the horrified grimace became a spine-chilling, scream-inducing, shit eating grin, "... bastard, Pinetree. So stupid… Convenient for me…."_

Dipper screamed as he awoke, sweat pouring, heart pounding, breath failing, sanity slipping.

Was that really….

No… no, no, no…

He raced downstairs. Ford would know what to do.

But as he jumped down unto the last step, he stared at his uncle, passed out on the kitchen floor.

"Great Uncle Ford… !"

Dipper, knowing he couldn't get the man unto the recliner alone, he went to get Grunkle Stan.

"Wait, boy, wait! I can get up! Just give me a hand.."

Sure enough, five long minutes later, they sat on the recliner together, Dipper seated on Ford's lap staring at the table covered with bottles.

Ford simply hoped he was too innocent.

"Great Uncle Ford?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

It was all he could say at the time, the demons stirring his into migraine.

"Why are you getting drunk? What happened?"

"...Old memories, Dipper. Tell me, did Bill ever make you do anything you regret horribly?"

"No. Wby?"

"...Then...Then it was worth the hell."

Dipper saw the Polaroid photo in Ford's pocket and asked carefully:

"Can I see?"

"Her name was Emma," he said, handing him that picture, "Bill caused me to lose her."

"Like McGuckit," Dipper nodded.

"Less traumatic situation, more traumatic ending. She's gone now."

"How?"

"Suicide. Drove into a lake. She, like McGuckit, knew Bill couldn't be trusted. I was a fool not to listen."

Dipper wanted to push and press. But the demon in his uncle's weary, gentle eyes seemed crazed, so he left it alone.

Had Ford not been drunk, he probably would've bypassed the tragic story. But somehow, he felt somewhat lighter as he hugged the boy tightly and asked his reasoning for being awake at night.

"Do you still have dreams about Bill?" Dipper asked quietly.

"Yes, boy. Probably always will. It's scary, but to truly worry about. He's gone Dipper, he's gone."

The soft rub on the child's back released all tension as he curled up in the author's jacket and closed his eyes. Ford wrapped his arms around his one angel of three among all his demons, slowly slipping.

"Good night, Dipper."


	3. Dipper Punches Mabel's Ex

**A/N: To make myself a better writer, I am doing premeditated prompts. I'll make this multichapter work because I am not fitting 75 prompts into one chapter.**

 **Enjoy my lovelies!**

* * *

 _ **Dipper Punches Mabel's Ex**_

She ran in with tears streaming down her face. Stan sat in his recliner, Ford at the table, and Dipper with him. She came to Stan first, and the moment the the two locked eyes, a sob ripped through her throat, and she collapsed on his firm chest.

Stanley and Stanford had been young for the last few years, thanks to Ford's last major discovery.

He wrapped his arms around her and listened to her weep.

Dipper and Ford moved in cautiously and Dipper caressed her head gently.

Dipper and Mabel had always known how to care for each other. Mabel had always guarded Dipper from bullies and the psychological problems that followed. And Dipper, well, Dipper learned his lesson about not being there.

Mabel and he had been staying with a second cousin for the summer when they were eight. He turned out to be sexually abusive toward Mabel when Dipper was out of the house. When Dipper finally found out, it was too late, The scars had been left. But Dipper would never, ever let it happen again. That's why Dipper was skeptical of Grunkle Stan and every boyfriend Mabel ever associated with. And she really was grateful.

Dipper knelt to his knees and moved his caress to her shoulders as she began to breathe evenly again.

"Mabel. What happened?" his voice was cautious, calm.

"He… he… oh, geez…"

"Who, Mabel?"

"I didn't think he'd hit me…"

Dipper froze.

His hand moved from her shoulder and he began to shake.

"Who… Who hit you?"

"Dip-dot…" her voice trembled gently.

Stan widened his eyes at the young man, and he didn't know why, but he held Mabel a little bit closer. Ford looked at Dipper.

"Calm down, kid."

"Mabel, please. Who hit you?"

Mabel made her way out of Stan's arms and hugged Dipper.

"Dipper," she whimpered softly.

He hugged her a little tighter, and asked again.

"Who, Mabel?"

"Jimmy Fisher."

"...the fuck...?"

Her sweet, never hurt a fly, boyfriend!? That bastard put his hands on her!?

He took a deep breath, shaking all the while.

"Mabel. Did he leave a mark?"

"No, I ran out too quickly for him to go to town. But I think he wanted to."

"Why?" Stan asked this time, voice seething. Ford, beside him, was readily deciding what one of the dozens of killing tactics he knew would be painful enough for him.

"He..He wanted...b-but I told him...no. I told him it was over."

"And then he hit you?"

Ford asked the question carefully.

Mabel nodded and hugged Dipper tightly.

"I'll take care of you, Mabel." He smiled softly.

"You always do," she mumbled with fatigue.

...

The next day at school, teens sure Fisher and Pines as they threatened each other darkly.

You could hear the crack of his jaw. The slam of fist against cheek. The slap of his body against the concrete.

The two hundred fifty pound fuck up lay out cold as Dipper was escorted violently to the office.


End file.
